


It's Best to Keep Me Pleased

by DarthSuki



Category: RWBY
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM Scene, Dirty Talk, F/M, Gender-neutral Reader, Leather Kink, Light Bondage, M/M, Objectification, Sex-Neutral Reader, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 02:11:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16823065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthSuki/pseuds/DarthSuki
Summary: “Have you been waiting long, dear?” The man teases, the sound of slipping cloth familiar enough to note that he was removing his jacket. “Oh, what am I saying, of course you have. Left to your lonesome and waiting for me. It’s a wonder I didn’t come in sooner and--well, I suppose it doesn’t matter much now.”Alternately:Roman Torchwick is a powerful man who tends to takes exactly what he wants. With you tied to the bed and exposed to his every touch, you're hardly in a position to protest.





	It's Best to Keep Me Pleased

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a request on my RWBY writing blog. If you would like to submit a request or check out my other related work, [go check it out here!](https://rwbywritings.tumblr.com/)
> 
> The title is inspired by the song ['Don't Mess With Me' by Temposhark](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uZOP_rP7aNg), which I listened to quite a bit while writing this ;3c It's totally a theme song of Roman so I suggest giving it a listen.

To you, everything is darkness. The blindfold tight around your head is firm and unyielding, more than thick enough to hide away even the brightest light. The only things that you can work off of for any sort of observation is your sense of hearing and touch, heightened and sensitive to the point of near-nervousness.

It’s been ten, maybe twenty minutes. Your hands are gently bound to the headboard above you, but are almost lovingly cradled by the soft comfort of a thick, satin-covered pillow. The chill of the air around you is made all the more obvious by your lack of clothes, leaving your body exposed to the room. You’re not freezing, but you’re not entirely warm either, caught in a flux that leaves your mind all the more confused and unsure of how to feel.

It’s vulnerability, you know, it courses through your thoughts like a wave of water. You can’t see, can barely move and have been waiting, waiting for your partner to come and take care of you.

But you knew he was giving you time to test your patience, to make sure you were the most sensitive to his touch from being neglected of sight and control for so long. Was he in the room already? You couldn’t be sure of anything, in all honesty, as Roman had quite the knack for moving around you without making much of a peep at all, only to capture you in a sudden, breath-taking kiss or, less romantically, to scare the shit out of you.

So there you lay, hands bound and eyes blinded, just waiting for the moment when you would feel fingertips finally caress across your body and a smooth, gentle voice in your ear. It’s tantalizing, buzzing at your nerves and leaving them raw and wanting more with every moment that passes by.

You can still remember the touch of his hands as he gently ties your hands, binds them just enough so that you can’t move them from above your head–the bindings themselves are soft and gentle against your wrists. The blindfold feels expensive--you would guess velvet--but you hardly had the time or the focus to consider the material before it had been put over your eyes.

The blankets are so soft, a nest of silk and softness that caresses your skin with every shift of your body. The minutes tick by, each one bringing forth a new wave of thoughts, of worry, of things that leave you wanting for a touch, a voice, anything to give form to the world that you can’t see around you.

When you part your lips to take in a breath and call out to the empty room, that’s when you finally hear it, the telltale noise of entrance of your partner--

Or at least, you hope that it’s him. There’s next-to-no chance that it could be anyone else of course, Roman only ever let you into his apartment at any given time, he wasn’t about to change such a hard-set personal habit on the same day he’d have you splayed out, naked and bound on his bed. The notion was still there though, nibbling at your nerves and making you wonder until you felt a set of fingertips finally come down upon your skin.

“My my,” A familiar voice soothed over you, the light touch of fingers tracing over your hip. “What have we here? Not everyday I find such a beautiful gift laying in my bed.”

You can finally detect the soft clicks of the man’s footsteps as he moves around the bed, his fingertips following the motion until they finally disappear from your skin. You’re not sure what to do, memory a complete mess of the detail that you and Roman had discussed only an hour prior. The heat starts to build in your belly, pooling already between your thighs as you can practically  _ feel _ his gaze over your naked form.

“Have you been waiting long, dear?” The man teases, the sound of slipping cloth familiar enough to note that he was removing his jacket. “Oh, what am I saying, of course you have. Left to your lonesome and waiting for me. It’s a wonder I didn’t come in sooner and--well, I suppose it doesn’t matter much now; I’ve got quite an  _ itch _ i need scratched.”

You can almost imagine what he must look like, standing off the side of the bed, regarding you as dismissively as he would a new piece of decoration. The soft apathy in his voice, mixed with the distinct power your blindness and binding gave him--it was rather intoxicating.

“Quiet, are you?” Roman finally asked, question practically rhetorical when you can’t find the words or the will to speak up (you just want to hear more of his voice). 

The man finally chuckles, as if reading your mind.

“Well,” he says softly, finally stepping towards the bed once more. “That’s quite alright, my dear. I’ll have you gasping for me before I’m through with you anyway.”

The bed dips underneath his weight as the man finally sits down beside you. He doesn’t move from the spot, doesn’t take a place over your body in the way that you would expect. Instead, you feel those fingertips ghosting over the skin of your side, down to your hip. The lack of smooth warmth and the gentle scratch of fingernails surprises you, taking a few moments before you realize that he’s still wearing his gloves. The leather is different against your skin, a way of physical distance that ironically makes you want his attention all the more.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had such a fun lookin’ toy to play with,” his voice soothes, low and distinct beside you. “And you are already enjoying this, aren’t you?”

It’s not a lie. Your nerves already feel a bit raw, a bit oversensitive to his touch from all the minutes you lay in wait for him. It’s all you can to to stay still, to let yourself focus on the sound of his voice and the ever-light touch of his gloved fingers over your skin.

They trail gently across your stomach, just enough pressure so you know they’re lingering, tracing, and that his eyes are watching you. Oh, you can feel Roman’s eyes even with a blindfold over your face. It's a weight over your mind, filling the air up with the sense of power so distinct of the man's personality.

Its intoxicating already.

A gasp falls from your lips as his hand trails close to where you're aching for it most. Where your thighs had been pressed together in some semblance of shame, they start to part, as if in invitation for Roman's hand to dip between them and wring out all those noises he promised to. 

When his touch doesn't move, your hips shift, a wordless beg that the man only chuckles at.

“You're not the one callin’ the shots around here,” he purrs, taking away the touch from you skin entirely and eventually lifting himself from the bed, back onto his feet.

A whine escapes you, desperation starting to mount to levels you don't even want to try hiding, though you knew well enough that Roman would see through it instantly. It’s all part of the game, toying and careful, a game that you had agreed to with every bit of excitement that Roman had himself.

He’s playing the role rather well, almost to the point that it’s almost little more of an extension to himself; perhaps that’s what excites you the most. You can hear the gentle click of his shoes on the hardwood floor, can trace them around the bed until he stands at the end, probably looking down on you with those heavy, hungry eyes of his.

“Quite a view, you are,” He says. “Open your legs for me, dear.”

It takes a moment to filter the gentle command. Your thighs part, exposing yourself in a way that makes you almost shiver--you can’t see anything at all, can only guess at Roman’s expression from sounds and context alone.

He lets out a pleasant hum and, after another moment, he steps around to the other side of the bed. Your thighs start to close again but, quick as a whip, Roman’s voice stops you.

“Keep them open,” is all it takes for your motions to still, body frozen.

A breath, then two, and finally three. On the exhale of the fourth breath you feel gloved-covered fingers press against your stomach. Roman traces little shapes against your skin. Your breathing is uneven in the focus of his touch and the growing need for something more--but it doesn’t take but a few more breaths of time before his hand starts moving downward, closer and closer to where you want it most.

When his hand finally moves between your thighs, you’re rewarded to the press of his fingers to your entrance. Thighs part wider still to allow him the room to tease you, prodding fingertips with the promise of something to slip inside your body, to open you up just a little bit.

“Oh, how wet you are,” Roman all but purrs. “Good to know my little toy is aptly prepared for me, eh?”

You can feel it, the slickness between your legs, the arousal, the need. He chuckles and finally gives you the pleasure of a single digit sinking inside you. It’s little more than a chip off the block of tension that fills you, but it’s still  _ something _ , and it’s only made worse by the words that drip like sweet honey from Roman’s lips.

“Wonder if I could make you cum like this, just playing with my little toy.”

He rubs the pad of his finger against your walls, the leather such a different texture than what it would have been without--the thickness added alone is enough to make your body shiver, your bottom lip between your teeth in an increasing need pooling in your stomach.

“ _ Wouldn’t that be fun?”  _ The man purrs, voice dropping a little as his finger crooks, just a little, just enough to rub against the right spot and make you gasp out the sharp, needy sound of his name. “It just wouldn’t be fair to not make use of such a pretty gift and oh, I think I’ll use you plenty my dear.”

There’s something about the way he speaks to you, a distance, a special sort of apathy laden with hot need and selfishness that fuels the fire in your belly. You gasp out his name again on quivering lips, needing more of him, so much more than a single digit toying against your lust-raw nerves.

But you have no control, no influence over the pace--everything is in Roman’s hands. He holds the control over the entire scene and it makes you drunk on want and need and blissful submission to him.

His power.

His control.

His  _ voice. _

You hang off the end of every word, and Roman knows it.

One finger soon becomes two, stretching you around the digits as they fuck into you. Slick, wet sounds fill the air as you can only sob silently, body twitching and hips pressing against his hand. Everything is so hot, the tension only rising when you feel the man shift, crawling onto the bed and taking his spot between your legs.

“Every inch of you,” he says, leaning over you, lips hovering just over the skin of your collarbone. “Every piece, every sound--it all belongs to  _ me _ .” Soft lips press to your skin, a moment of gentleness quickly replaced by pleasure-pain when Roman’s teeth press down and he sucks against the spot. 

He’s got three digits inside of your heat by the time he lifts his face from your shoulders and, gods above, the soft tenderness across your skin is evidence enough for the mark’s he’s already made, marks you’ll only get to see when he’s finished using you to his liking. His gaze feel heavy down on your body, attention like a predator, the criminal mastermind he truly is. 

Your body is constantly on the edge of climax as Roman fucks you open with his fingers, knowing exactly where to press and how fast to go. It doesn’t help at all when he leans over you, lets his lips caress over the shell of your ear and whisper sweet, filthy nothings that make you miserable in not being able to grab him, touch him,  _ see _ him do this to you. The motion also leaves his chest just hovering over yours and--oh.

He’s not undressed. He’s still got his dress shirt on, his slacks--

“I think I’ve had enough fun playing with you,” The man murmurs lowly, voice so careful and measured. You hear the gentle, but obvious sound of a belt being undone, a zipper. “I think it’s about time I had a little bit of pleasure for myself now, my dear. I can hardly keep myself contained with all those little noises you’re makin’, sounding like you want to get fucked so fuckin’ bad.”

There’s such a feeling of emptiness as Roman pulls his fingers from inside you. It makes you squirm, whine for the loss of the delicious thickness, but the man is quick to press his hips close to yours and stifle the noises of complaint with a promise of something better, something hot and thick that grinds almost sweetly against your core.

It is much thicker than three fingers--and longer too. It sends a shiver down your spine as Roman growls beside your ear.

“I have the time for a quick fuck,” he says. “But nothing more than that, darling, though you’re more than welcome to cum on my cock as many times as you like until I’m done with you.”

You hardly have the time to filter through the words before Roman is shifting his body, reaching his glove-covered hands over the curves of your hips and manhandling you just right--it barely takes a breath before you feel the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance. 

A second, a pause, and then he’s pressing inside you, sigh of pleasure escaping his lips. All you can do is take it, every little inch slipping into your body and stretching you around the thick girth of his cock.

Something slips from your lips, the vague sound of his name, filled with need. Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips and, yes, he’s completely clothed--it only furthers the distance between the two of you, the power dynamic in the unspoken details burning hot in your stomach. The apathy in his tone rubs raw against you and, in some twist of what most people would even want in a lover, you find yourself spurred all the farther by it all.

He’s barely started thrusting when your first orgasm fills you over. It’s hot and hard, slamming into you so completely that you’re almost left breathless and without a single thought to your mind. It lasts for what feels like an eternity, but, when the pleasure starts to fall off Roman continues to move, fucking you through the afterglow. You’re oversensitive and raw but gods above does it sate something deep inside you.

You’re a toy, a thing, for his pleasure and his pleasure alone.

Roman leans back down over you, lips caressing across your collarbone as his hands grip tighter over your hips; if he wasn’t wearing the gloves, you know that his nails would be biting into your skin.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he moans against your skin, lifting your hips so he can practically curl over you--his thrusts get deeper with the new angle, cock brushing hard over delicate nerves. “Should have you like this more often--a toy all tied up for me to use whenever I like, keep you wet and wanting and ready for me to get between y’legs and slip my cock inside ya.”

There’s a trickle of love that leaks from the man’s words, genuine and soft and it hits you like a freight train. Though you’re constantly toying the line of too much and not enough at the same time, there’s something about the man’s growing desperation, the faltering on his role that you can’t help but adore.

“You like that? Such a good thing you are--bet’cha love me using you as much as I do. Could come here anytime I damn well wanted, open these pretty legs of yours and have my dirty way with you until you can’t remember your own name.”

A second orgasm comes over you before you have the chance to realize it was there, pleasure pouring over your hot nerves so heavily that all you can do is shake and moan and sob in beautiful pleasure-pain from all of the sensations. You clench hard around the man’s cock and feel his pace quicken, so fast and so hard--it’s a whirlwind that your thoughts can’t hope to nail down.

“Oh, that’s  _ good _ ,” Roman hisses, pulling your hips to meet his every thrust and filling the room with filthy, slick sounds that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than a hard, quick, mindless fuck. “Oh yes dear, that feels perfect when you fuckin’ cum around me. So  _ tight _ and  _ hot _ \--wonder if I can wring one more out of you. Oh, yes, I’m close, but I want you to cum again.”

Every nerve is flashing hot, every inch of your skin aflame--his cock keeps you on the edge, roughly plucked back from the bottom of the canyon you’ve long-since fallen into after two hard orgasms. All you can do is just  _ listen _ to the man’s voice and let him use your body, fucking into you hard and fast and oh-so perfect that it’s hard to feel where you end and he begins.

His lips are on your throat again, kissing and biting and lavishing your pulse with the press of his tongue. You can hardly take it, can hardly even  _ think _ , but Roman clutches you close and lets out a ragged snarl when his pleasure finally crests over. 

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck,” The man curses, fucking into you with an impassioned ferocity, a needy beast. He bites into your skin and slams his hips to yours, going above and beyond his orgasm as you feel him spill inside you and just….just a little more……

You orgasm with a cry, sharp and loud and in the shape of his name. It lasts for but several seconds but gods above does it hit you, drag over every inch of your body from head to toe and leave you writing beneath your partner. The two of you enjoy the handful of moments, blissful and hot and where nothing else exists besides the way he feels inside you, hot and spilling and  _ perfect _ .

…

When the heat has died and the fire is gone from your belly, you’re finally able to collect your thoughts. They’re a bit jumbled and a little worse for wear, but they’re in one piece--enough that you can’t help but smile and nuzzle against the top of Roman’s head.

“Okay?” your voice says, sounding almost as rough and hoarse as it feels leaving your throat.

Roman lifts his head.

“I’m the one who should be asking that of you, dear,” he lifts a hand up to gently push away the blindfold from your eyes, which squint against the hard, bright light of the room around you. “Are you feeling alright? I didn’t push you too far, did I?”

You blink and find his face taking up most of your vision. His eyes look so vivid as his gaze meets yours, like deep emeralds, so contrasting with his bright, mussed fire-red hair. Gentle concern eeks out of the look he seemed to have built over the course of the scene, cold apathy breaking apart like dust until you can’t help but smile at him.

“I’m alright,” you say gently, breathlessly. “That was...really nice.”

“It seemed as such. You look absolutely  _ ravishing _ when you’re so close to orgasm, dear.”

Your partner leans forward enough to meet your lips in a sweet kiss, such a contrast to the persona he wore mere minutes prior. They’re so warm, like the rest of him, and the gesture fills your chest with delicious warmth that wraps around the feeling of afterglow that has settled within your heavy limbs.

He pulls his face back, just a little, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek against warm leather.

“I love you.”

It’s soft and sweet, an expression and a reassurance at the same time, considering what the scene had consisted of from him. You press your face into the man’s touch and close your eyes, simply enjoying the fleeting moment between you--the warmth of Roman’s body, the gentle presence of his cock still inside you, the tingle of your tired limbs and his sweet, loving words.

“I love you too, Roman.”

You can’t stop yourself from smiling.


End file.
